


The Iron Strong

by pallorsomnium



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Kidnapping, M/M, Psychological Torture, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallorsomnium/pseuds/pallorsomnium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>They come for him in the middle of the night, undeniably prepared to deal with a telepath.</i> </p><p>Charles' kidnappers want the Iron Strong, but he can't give them what he doesn't know he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Iron Strong

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired partially by [this piece or art](http://atelier-dayz.tumblr.com/post/66735387455/tahariels-8981amatou-cherik-it-and-turn) with Tah's accompanying comment. I took that idea and sort of fused with the back story to _[Hellsing](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hellsing)_.

They come for him in the middle of the night, undeniably prepared to deal with a telepath. He doesn’t realise there are even trespassers in his house, until a shadow stretches over his bed and a deceptively light web falls over his face, silencing the voices that have been his companions for years. He doesn't even get to send a warning to Raven; he hopes they aren’t after her as well.  The smell of chloroform overwhelms him, throwing him into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

He wakes tied to a metal chair, a fluorescent light burning into his eyes but the room around him draped in darkness. He doesn’t know how much time has passed since he was taken; he spares a thought for Raven and hopes she’s unharmed. 

A man’s voice speaks his name, distorted by some kind of machine or mask. He looks for the man, but all he sees is a silhouette among shadows.

The man wants to know where the Iron Strong is, but Charles doesn’t know; he doesn’t even know _what_ the Iron Strong is. The man says he’s lying, that he must know, since the Iron Strong belongs to Charles.

Charles insists he doesn’t know, and a blow to the head knocks him out.

 

* * *

 

They put him in into a sensory deprivation tank, the telepathy suppressant still draped over his face, and there isn’t room for him to move, let alone try to pull the webbing off. As he floats in the saline solution, he tries to remind himself he isn’t afraid of the dark or of small spaces. He’d spent half of his childhood intermittently curled into the space between a cabinet and an old suit of armour in the basement, hiding from the belt and fists of his stepfamily. The tank should hardly be a problem.

The silence, though, is a problem.

The silence stretches within and without his mind, and his body feels at once heavy as lead and hollowed out as a shell casing.

He stretches his mind against the confines of the suppressant, but to no consequence except the additional weight to his limbs. He is completely and utterly alone inside his head.

He wonders how long it will take for him to go insane.

 

* * *

 

He knows they eventually take him out of the tank and place him inside a cell, though he can’t tell if minutes or hours or even days have passed. 

They ask again for the Iron Strong, but he can’t give an answer to what he doesn’t know.

Despite the light washing across the cell, he falls asleep clutching the rough fabric of the bed he lies on, and then he’s back in the tank, though he doesn’t know if he is dreaming or if he’s really there.

 

* * *

 

They keep asking him for the Iron Strong, taking him out of the tank and then putting him back in. He tries to keep track, his awareness divided between wet darkness and dry brightness. He loses count after the third or fourth time though, and instead he spends his energy reminding himself that the pair of glowing red eyes he sees and the clanking of metal he hears every now and then is nothing but a hallucination.

 

* * *

 

Things change when the top of the tank crumples back like an accordion. He can’t decide if he’s hallucinating, especially when a suit of armour with glowing eyes appears above him. 

The suit of armour, a knight surely, reaches down and lifts him from the water, cradling him to its chest, and the metal is sharp and cold against his bare skin.

Then a gauntlet pulls the netting from his head, and—

He could _hear_ again.

 

* * *

 

Charles bites back a scream as the world floods back into focus inside his mind. There are dying minds in the building, and he shies away from them when flashes of blood-lined blades cutting into flesh reach him. 

Metal shifts beneath him as the suit kneels down on the concrete floor, still holding Charles close. There is a _mind_ in there, he realises, so he reasons there must be a person wearing that suit of armour.

Then metal fingers press against his temple, and it’s like a key slots into place within his mind—his _soul_ —with a click.

 

* * *

 

He knows this suit of armour, this man who doesn’t speak. 

The Iron Strong—no, _Erik._

* * *

 

Memories slip into his mind, some of them Erik’s and others not.

 

* * *

 

_When he wakes for the first time in centuries, he knows something is wrong, though he can’t place what. He knows though, that the woman before him is not an Xavier, but only an Xavier should be capable of waking him._

_Her skin is blue and her hair is red. She stares at him with wide yellow eyes for merely a second._

_Then she turns as fierce as any warrior and demands his help. Her brother has been taken, and the book she has in her hand says he, Iron Strong, can save him._

_He finally understands the undercurrent of unease running through his body and the thread tethered to his soul and stretched taut to some distance unknown._

_An Xavier is in danger._

_He ignores the woman’s shouts as he runs out of the mansion he vaguely remembers, and follows where the thread from his soul leads him._

* * *

 

Charles finally recognizes Erik as the suit of armour in the basement, the same one he hid next to all those years ago. 

He had known, it seems, that he’d be safest by Erik, even as the man slept, waiting to be woken.

 

* * *

 

Erik had a body once, tall and lean and utterly human. Charles knows because he now holds the memories of a man who had shared Charles’ last name and Charles’ face—and had loved Erik dearly. 

 _Francis_ , Erik calls him, but Charles corrects him, because he is but isn’t Francis. Once upon a time, he had been Francis, but now he is Charles.

 _Charles, then,_ Erik consents, his voice smoky and warm inside Charles’ mind.

He sighs and ignores the coldness of Erik’s armour as he presses himself closer.

 _I’ve missed you, old friend_ , he says, and Erik leans down, rests his metal forehead against Charles’.

 _And I you, my liege,_ Erik answers, but what Charles truly hears is _I love you, I love you, ani ohev otcha_.

 

* * *

 

 _What do you ask of me?_  

_Take me home._

_As you wish._

 

* * *

 

_Erik kneels before him, armour encasing his body like a second skin. His helmet is propped against one hip, and grey-green eyes, glowing with devotion and power, look up into Francis’._

_Erik takes hold of his left hand, as gentle as any other time they’ve touched, and presses his lips to the Xavier signet ring. He stands and leans forward for a kiss. The words of a vow caress Francis’ lips._

I, Erik the Iron Strong, pledge to you my loyalty, my servitude, so you may be safe and protected. I pledge to you my heart, my soul, so you may be loved and cherished until the end of time.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation: _ani ohev otcha_ is "I love you" in Hebrew.


End file.
